Legacy of Kobol
by Sayle
Summary: When the Colonial Fleet is detected moving towards Earth the SGC investigates, and neither side may find what they expect - or particularly like. AU set after Ark of Truth. SG1/SGA/nBSG Discontinued.
1. New Discoveries

**I have wanted to do a Stargate story for a while now, and I have begun to develop a fondness for Battlestar Galactica...and then the plot bunnies struck, and refused to move until I wrote at least a little. This is set after the Ark of Truth, so the Ori are no longer a threat, and after the beginning of Season Five of Atlantis so Teyla is back and the team safe. Battlestar Galactica portions will begin after the mid-season finale, but for the moment this is Stargate-centric. Without further ado, we go to the Ancient outpost in Antarctica...**

* * *

Antarctica was cold, icy and unforgiving. The slightest misstep could send an explorer down hundreds of feet into deep crevasses where bones would splinter and flesh would freeze. The cold was fine until frostbite set in – after that it became a downward slope that led rapidly to death. There was a reason that O'Neill cited the icy wastes as his least favourite continent.

The cracked ice had its odd, pristine beauty marred by the environmental dome that sat in the middle of a wide plain of ice, a few isolated helicopters huddled round it. Antarctica was meant to be the domain of the world, but this little station belonged to the IOA and the IOA only, and they guarded it jealously.

In the centre of the heated dome the hardest ice still stubbornly refused to melt, so grating had been constructed round the massive winch which lowered the lift down into the depths. The ice was radically different on the way down, the hard and packed glacier giving way to what looked as if running water had frozen as it poured down the sides of the perfectly circular bore down into the ice.

Michael Williams craned his neck over the railing set up round the hole as he waited for the lift to make its long ascent up from the outpost down below to the top. The outpost was at least reasonably heated, while the dome itself was a great deal colder than the squat prefabricated dwelling round the lift suggested. He had to focus on something, so he traced the flows of frozen water down the shaft.

The scientists ran a twenty-four hour operation, and being called to operate the control chair outside his shift made Williams distinctly…unhappy. As the strongest carrier of the ATA gene at the outpost he had accepted being the guinea pig for anything involving the chair, but most of the time it could at least wait for his shift. And all the coffee machines were down in outpost itself. The scientist was rapidly graduating from grumpy to downright pissed.

The lift arrived with a long whirr and a clunk, the mesh door sliding open with a clatter. Williams stepped inside and thumbed the down button, the mesh closing again and the lift jerking slightly then beginning a slow descent downwards. In the day filtered sunlight would shed some illumination down into the shaft, but soon only the soft glow of the lights above and below were visible. If it weren't for the cold Williams could have happily closed his eyes and gone to sleep.

It was a long ride. Williams idly wondered how long it would take normal machinery to get down this far. Maybe a couple of months? Half a year? SG-1 did it in about two minutes with a modified set of transport rings in a Goa'uld cargo ship while a firefight erupted around them, no less.

After several more minutes the lift finally made contact with the bottom of the shaft. Taking a deep breath as the door clattered open, Williams stepped into the outpost. The first time he had stepped into it he had been struck by how boring it looked. He had expected strange architecture, pulsing and glowing lights, and maybe some alien weaponry.

As it was, he got all three, but not in any way he expected. The alien architecture was subdued and functional, all steel gray and straight lines. The glowing, brilliant blue lights of the control chair seemed crisp and yet somehow beautiful, and the drone weapons looked completely alien. The squid-like robotic missiles looked perfectly safe until they glowed yellow and shot off at mind-boggling speeds to blow a substantial hole in something large and probably very valuable.

Sighing, Williams turned to the side and hit a button on the coffee maker. The cylindrical and plastic machine looked distinctly out of place next to all the scientific equipment, but it did more to maintain the sanity of the researchers than sleep ever could. The machine started to rumble slightly as it prepared the drink, and the scientist moved towards the chair room.

The outpost seemed quieter than usual. There were usually at least five people working at any one time, but Williams couldn't see anyone. He took one step into the chair room and discovered where most of them were. Three of the researchers were huddled round the chair diagnostic screen and babbling excitedly. Williams cleared his throat.

The conversation instantly stopped as they all turned and straightened up. Williams identified Doctor Langham, who had placed the offending call which dragged him out of bed. He was the resident expert on Ancient computer systems, but had the annoying habit of advertising his latest discovery the second he made it, not matter how insignificant. He found the coding structure fascinating, but everybody else found it irritating.

Langham significantly brightened when he realised who it was and became brushing at his lab coat with one hand in excitement, beginning to babble. He looked completely unremarkable, occasionally pushing up his thin-rimmed glasses when they slipped during his excited lectures. Williams just raised one hand, which silenced the scientist instantly.

"Just…tell me what to do, Langham." The scientist smiled instantly and gestured to the control chair. Williams slowly turned towards it and stepped up onto the dais. The control chair was an interesting piece of technology. From here Williams and anybody with the Ancient Technology Activation gene could operate the various systems of the outpost – which included the fleet-destroying drone weapons.

The chair itself looked intimidating, an odd blend of technology and architecture. It sat on a raised dais of two levels, a little step between the floor and the actual chair itself. The floor was criss-crossed by what looked like silver bars, separating the transparent bluish stone that made up the dais into triangles and other geometric shapes.

As Williams set his first foot onto the dais the floor began to glow with a soft light, blue tendrils of the luminescence growing outwards from the chair, which itself remained dark and lifeless. The chair itself seemed carved from whitish stone, the thick backrest looking stiff and unyielding.

The headrest was incorporated into the back, set with the same bluish stone as the floor of a dais, which Williams knew would light up in a brilliant blue when his thoughts activated the chair. But the odd thing was how it almost seemed like molten quicksilver had been poured over the headrest to freeze in strange, molten patterns which seemed so different from the geometric precision of the general architecture.

It didn't look like a chair, it looked like a throne. Williams turned around and settled into it, the armrests feeling vaguely uncomfortable. At the tips of his fingers were the strange gelatinous half-spheres which seemed to hold motes of multi-coloured light suspended in the gel. They were integrated into the end of the armrests, and apparently played some role in controlling the specific functions of the chair.

Williams didn't know what they were for – thought had always been enough for him. It struck him that they really didn't know how the chair worked. They could use fancy words like 'neural interface' and the like, but it brought the researchers no closer to understanding how it operated. The IOA wasn't going to let them take apart the millions year old device which controlled the most powerful weapons on Earth to see how it worked.

The scientist turned towards Langham, who was tracing his finger down the lines of Ancient scroll on the chair diagnostic screen. The blocky symbols meant nothing to Williams, but to Langham they apparently meant a lot. He regularly spouted the advantages of Ancient over English.

"Doctor Langham, if you brought me down here for nothing…" There was an unspoken threat in those words, but Langham simply brushed them off with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, yes. Could you concentrate on bringing up sensors, please?" Williams grunted and the chair activated, reclining into a slightly more comfortable position, the headrest glowing a soft but crisp blue. Above his head an image of the Earth appeared in all its glory, with a blue circular symbol appearing in orbit. Williams blinked.

"The _Daedalus_ is in orbit? I didn't know that." Langham made a noncommittal grunt, tracing his finger down a line of code again as he replied.

"Could be the _Oddysey_, the chair doesn't distinguish between ships of the same design." Williams shrugged, the chair beginning a lazy rotation as his idle thoughts had an effect. As idle as he could be while controlling the most powerful technology on the planet.

"What am I doing, Langham? I should be sleeping." It irritated Williams that Langham was taking so long. He had things to do, coffee to drink, beds to sleep in…

"Yes, yes" came the impatient reply. "We have discovered a subset to the sensor coding. I need to isolate it before you activate it. Don't want you activating the drones and destroying that poor ship in orbit, do we?" Williams tried not to glare. He wanted to sleep. Failing that, he wanted his _damn coffee._

"Aha, I have it! There, concentrate on turning on the system." Langham's enthusiasm was irritating, and Williams tried to shut it out as he did as he was asked, his collective willpower focusing on the idea. After a few seconds there was a beep from the diagnostic screen and the holographic image above the chair platform shifted.

The view of the Earth rapidly vanished and new stars appeared. One of the other researchers made an interested sound and Williams looked over. He hadn't noticed the others…he was way too tired to be up right now.

"That looks this part of the Orion Arm! We thought the chair might have long-range sensors, but we could never find any…" He dissolved into excited discussion with his astrophysicist colleague about applications and power requirements. The conversation instantly stopped when the hologram beeped and a lot of red dots appeared.

"Those dots all seem rather close to Earth, don't they?" Langham took off his glasses and rubbed at them, as if it would change what he was looking at. Williams scrutinised the image and came to the conclusion that the annoying computer geek was right. Those dots did seem rather close to Earth. With a sinking feeling Williams realised he was going to need that coffee, because he wasn't going to be going back to bed any time soon.

* * *

Meredith Rodney McKay was not normally a happy man. He had leagues of scientists bordering on the incompetent constantly bothering him with ideas that would obviously never work, for one thing. Best and brightest? Hardly. Radek Zelenka was tolerable, at least. The Czech knew when to shut up and start working on it himself.

Even worse was that he was constantly working under the threat of death. Not just the average 'the Wraith might attack Atlantis' threat of death but the 'make it work or you will die painfully in the next few minutes' sort of threat of death. The fact that he always made it work was only due to his unmitigated genius.

So it was uncommon to find him in a good mood, but the events of the past year, looking back, filled him with a certain sense of grim satisfaction. The Pegasus Replicators were wiped out(as far as they could tell), the Wraith were falling apart because of infighting over food sources, and Teyla had been rescued from Michael, along with her child. All in all, it hadn't been that bad recently.

He was currently sitting at his usual station in the control room, combing the Ancient database for information on the planet the flagship team was due to visit in a couple of days. It was a forest world, predictably, and the MALP had indicated there wasn't enough space for a jumper, which meant walking. A lot of walking.

He was distracted from his perusal of the database when the Stargate let out the humming and whirring noise on an incoming activation. The symbols of the various constellations of Pegasus lit up in a circle, making a speedy progress along the outer track, blue chevrons locking into place with a low pitched thump when the lit symbols passed them.

The gate lit up in a full circle, the constellations all shining a clean and brilliant white as the final chevron locked. The wormhole formed in an awe-inspiring rush of light and energy, the event horizon rushing inwards to fill the empty space of the ring and bursting outwards like an explosion of water.

It only took a moment for the powerful piece of technology to reign in the immense energies of the forming wormhole, the outward rush of the unstable event horizon stopping then being dragged inwards in less than a second, the shimmering portal smoothing and becoming the gentle ripple commonly associated with the 'puddle', so named for the unearthly appearance of standing water. Not like really water, but how water is imagined, a brilliant blue.

The shield hummed as it activated, forming a seal around the incoming wormhole. The partially transparent energy field would stop anything coming through – it would literally kill anybody or anything trying to come through in an instant, the Stargate unable to reintegrate the traveller in the tiny space between the forcefield and the event horizon.

McKay shot a questioning glance at Chuck, the gate technician on duty. He shrugged. "Only Major Lorne's team is offworld, and they aren't scheduled back for another fourteen hours."

Rodney turned back to his laptop, which then beeped, indicating an incoming transmission had been received. Then the gate shut down and the shield with it, the control room of Atlantis again filled with the normal sounds of everyday use. McKay opened the message and began to read it just as Colonel Samantha Carter came up the stairs.

"I heard the Stargate activate. Who was it?" Rodney leaned back and indicated the screen of his laptop, still displaying the offending message.

"It's from Stargate Command." Sam cocked her head a little, looking surprised.

"They can dial in? Did they find another ZPM?" Rodney shook his head. ZPMs, or Zero Point Modules were Ancient power sources which drew immense amounts of energy from subspace – but the laws of entropy meant they were like a battery, so they could essentially be tapped dry. Three were meant to power the massive City of Atlantis, and had sustained a forcefield protecting the City under the ocean for ten thousand years. It took an awful lot of power to establish a wormhole to another galaxy, which is where Atlantis was located.

"I wish. They probably just took the one powering the _Oddysey_. Now the Ori threat is gone they probably don't need it. I still say we should have kept that one." Rodney was referring to an incident when Atlantis had been taken over by Pegasus Replicators, who had brought three ZPMs with them to power the city. Atlantis had kept one, while Earth got the other two to power the Ancient outpost in Antarctica and the _Oddysey_.

Rodney knew perfectly well that both ZPMs were needed elsewhere, and Atlantis technically only needed one to power the city and the powerful energy shield that protected it, but he had protested a great deal at the time.

Halfway down the message, Rodney froze. It couldn't be right. There was no way…he read it again, and the words refused to change to something more accommodating. He spread his hands expressively, with no small amount of irritation and incredulity written on his face.

"I don't believe this…I'm being recalled to Earth. According to this I have to be there within the hour…I don't even have time to pack!" His tone became increasingly high pitched and annoyed, a sure sign he was becoming stressed.

"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't recall you unless it was important, Rodney." Sam laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly, then moved to the other end of the control room to a free laptop where she could read the message herself.

Rodney just stared at the message. He liked it on Atlantis. He had things to do, projects to oversee. He was the head of his department! He couldn't just leave that at a moments notice. Gritting his teeth he took a deep breath. This meant only one thing: he needed the Czech.

"_Radek! Where the hell is Radek? Get him up here!"_

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**At the moment I don't know whether this is going to be an amusing little plot bunny or whether this will evolve into a full-fledged crossover story. Obviously reviews and interest play a great role in determining which one it is, so if you have an opinion, express it. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and is often the most useful sort of review, provided at least some positive points are thrown in.**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_


	2. Briefing

The SGC was spartan and cold compared to the majesty of Atlantis, and Rodney felt somewhat ill at ease in the concrete bowels of Cheyenne Mountain. Less than two hours ago he had been speculating on what a good year it had been. Now he was just annoyed, and consequently lashed out at anything that moved. One young, female cadet helping him by ferrying labwork had nearly been reduced to tears and fled the scene.

Rodney swiped a single file from an increasing stack developing to his right and opened it, taking out the single piece of paper like it was something unpleasant, holding the top between two fingers. He couldn't believe this. He really couldn't believe this.

"What, they call me back to look at first hand accounts of what happened? I don't want personal accounts, I want _data!_ You!" His finger unerringly whipped up to point squarely at another assistant, who jerked backwards as if physically struck, clutching folders to her chest. "Yeah, you! What are you doing?"

"I-I'm just-" Her reply was stuttered. The SGC had not had the likes of Doctor Rodney McKay for some time, just the mild mannered Doctor Lee. It was something of a shock to the entire science staff.

"Just what?" Rodney's voice climbed the octaves, laden with incredulity. "Get. Me. The. Data." Doctor Lee, who had been lurking in the background and looking concerned, ambled forward, rubbing at his chin in his usual expression of thought and concern. He was a good scientist, and meant well, and he didn't match the fearsome intellects of McKay and Carter. But he was a dogged man, and saw things through to the end every time.

"You know Doctor," he said, sounding thoughtful, "I find that the team works best when just nudged a little in the right direction…" He stopped talking when Rodney slowly swivelled his chair around to face him with an expression of incredulity written on his features.

"What, are you scientist or a therapist? Can't you just-_what?_" He swivelled round towards the entrance of the lab, where somebody had just rapped their knuckles against the side of the blast door.

"You'll have to forgive Rodney – he just gets stressed with having to save the day over and over again. Isn't that right, Meredith?" The figure smirked as Doctor Lee escaped from the lab, brushing by the new arrival, white lab coat flapping a little at the speed of his departure. Rodney opened his mouth and closed it silently, looking annoyed, but the currents of abuse seemed to have died.

"Why do you insist on calling me that at times like this? And what are you even doing here?" Colonel John Sheppard stepped into the lab with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. Rodney winced.

"Oh, you know. Leaving without saying goodbye? Really Rodney, that just isn't nice. Besides, I brought your stuff. Clothes, that sort of thing."

"Well…thanks." Rodney turned back to work, shifting another large pile of papers to the side, taking the sheaf of folders offered him by one terrified aide without even looking at him. Sheppard looked vaguely amused as he watched the man scurry out of sight.

"Always good to know you haven't lost your touch." Rodney frowned, still looking over his newest acquisition in the glorious world of scientific data. This is was what he needed, power levels, diagnostics, sensor telemetry, records of control chair functions…He was so distracted it took the comment a moment to filter through and elicit a somewhat confused response.

"What?" Sheppard looked back one last time and lazily walked over to glance over McKay's shoulder.

"Everybody here is running scared. I'm pretty sure I saw somebody sobbing in the corridor on the way here. It's like Miko Kusanagi all over again." Rodney raised his head and looked exasperated.

"Ha-ha. Maybe if I wasn't pulled away from Atlantis and saddled with amateurs…" Sheppard interrupted him before the drawn out silence could be transformed into a coherent and scathing analysis of the scientific abilities of SGC personnel.

"You truly are a martyr. Come on, General Landry and General O'Neill want a briefing." Rodney paused and swivelled in his chair against to face Sheppard.

"What, _now?_" Sheppard gave Rodney his best smile but didn't say anything. The Canadian scientist didn't say anything either, but Sheppard was sure that in the same situation Zelenka would be mumbling irritated obscenities in Czech by now. Rodney just tensed up his jaw and grabbed the relevant papers, practically storming out of the lab. Sheppard just shook his head and followed.

"You know, I'm pretty sure Miko had a crush on you, McKay." There was a short break in the two's footsteps as McKay absorbed this, then jogged to catch up.

"Really?"

McKay slammed the felt tip of the green marker into the white board, rapidly and crudely drawing a general and stylised diagram of the nearest solar systems, along with Earth's. Dropping the practically fluorescent marker he picked up the nearest red and began dotting the board, occasionally referencing the sensor data from the Antarctic outpost.

While he did this, Sheppard took a seat at the other end of the briefing room, sitting next to Jack O'Neill. The General was leaning over the table and watching McKay with an expression that could only be described as bored. He looked over at Sheppard.

"I know I haven't had time to talk to you about this, Sheppard…but flying a city? Don't you need a license for that?" Sheppard leaned back and set his feet up on the briefing table, leaning over conspiratorially.

"Don't tell anyone, but I think the ole' girl likes me." Jack raised his eyebrows and made a non-committal sound.

"Yes, I know how natural you are with Ancient technology. I also heard how natural you are with Ancient _women_." The Major General gave Sheppard a piercing look, but there was a warm laughter dancing in his eyes. Sheppard had the decency to look uncomfortable.

"Well Sir, there were only two of them…" McKay had apparently begun listening at some point because he interrupted with no small amount of indignation in his voice.

"What, are you kidding? He's like Captain Kirk!" It was at that moment that General Landry emerged from his office in time to catch the end of McKay's comment, and the current commander of the SGC sat down at the table.

"Ah, Doctor McKay. I take it this means you are ready to begin your briefing? And would Colonel Sheppard please take his feet off the table?" Sheppard guiltily put his feet down while O'Neill smiled faintly. McKay just sighed and moved to the side of the whiteboard, momentarily struck by how everybody was in casual uniform.

"Now I can't do a proper presentation on such short notice," he began, "so I'll give you the basics your sorry excuses for scientists down at the Ancient outpost managed to gather."

"McKay." Sheppard's tone allowed no dispute, and the scientist deflated slightly, jaw tensing again in a display of irritation. O'Neill leaned over and whispered something in Landry's ear, which made the General snort in amusement and chuckle. McKay restrained the urge to glare at the two highly-respected military men and continued.

"In any case, the basics are as follows. There is a fleet of a dozen or more ships, closely clustered together, very close to Earth." He lazily circled the tight cluster of red dots he had marked on the white board. Sheppard piped up.

"How close is 'very close'?" McKay indicated one of the further away systems in response.

"That is what used to be Abydos, the closest Stargate to Earth." There was a pause.

"So…close, then." Sheppard winced at what sounded like a bit of an unnecessary comment. General Landry apparently didn't appreciate the delay in the briefing.

"I don't recall you being invited to this briefing, Colonel Sheppard." Sheppard lowered his head a little and looked sheepish. O'Neill saved him.

"No, its okay. He can stay." Sheppard smiled gratefully at O'Neill, who looked at him briefly before redirecting his attention back to McKay.

"_Anyway,_" McKay cut in, "that isn't the interesting thing. While we were monitoring them they made a short hyperspace jump – a few light years. If we judge that they have been heading in roughly the same direction the entire time, they came from a rather barren part of the Galaxy. There is only one Stargate in that part of the arm – and we dialled it two years ago. Buried."

McKay drew a small arrow by the large cluster of red dots, and it pointed in the direction of Earth. "Now the other interesting thing is why they would want to make such a short hyperspace jump. Even the Wraith only drop out to repair the damage done to their organic systems by hyperspace radiation – and even if these were organic-based ships the Wraith can go for hours without stopping. This jump lasted seconds."

"Malfunction, maybe?" Sheppard seemed to have assumed the role of asking the obvious questions or making observations, because it was his voice which interrupted again. McKay shook his head, assuming the facial expression Sheppard had mentally labelled as the 'I doubt it face'.

"Maybe for one ship, but all at once? No, this was deliberately a short jump. The question is why?" Sheppard seemed deep in thought, because he was nodding a little and almost tentatively suggested another possibility, which also suggested he wasn't sure if it was a valid idea.

"I read that SG1 used a cargo ship's hyperspace generator to move a massive asteroid. That only lasted for a few seconds as well, right?" O'Neill significantly perked up at the mention of one of his Earth-saving exploits.

"That's right! They gave us a really badly designed bomb to blow the asteroid up with, by the way. Then we had to defuse it. Cut the yellow wire, Carter said. All the wires were yellow!" McKay looked a bit annoyed at the sudden tangent the conversation had taken.

"Anyway, I doubt it. Not only would that probably burn out a hyperspace generator, it just isn't practical. The sort of maintenance it would require-"

"So the question is," General Landry interrupted, "why are they heading to Earth, and why so slowly?" Rodney looked a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't know…maybe they just want to say hello?" There was a moment of silence as the room absorbed this thought. Landry spoke first.

"Well optimism aside, I think we need to do a flyby. SG-11 is overdue by three days, so the _Odyssey _is checking up on them, but the _Daedalus _is still in orbit. I think we can delay the return to Atlantis for a couple of days." McKay raised a finger to interrupt.

"Ah, you didn't let me finish. The interesting thing is that along with the group of ships there are several other individual contacts, but they seem to be making a large amount of hyperspace jumps all over that area of space." Sheppard brightened up as he had an idea.

"Like a search pattern?" General O'Neill tapped a pen against the top of the table and sighed, but there was an undercurrent of steel to his voice.

"Whatever the reason, all that matters if we have a large group of ships moving towards Earth, and other unknowns hopping all over nearby space Whatever their intention or reasons, that makes them a threat that has to be accounted for. Sheppard."

"Sir?" McKay didn't see any actual movement from the soldier, but he suddenly seemed a great deal less languid and more alert.

"You and Doctor McKay will liaise with Colonel Caldwell on the _Daedalus_. Standard recon. No contact. We have a puddle jumper at Area 51 for study, and I'll have it transferred to the _Daedalus_." McKay looked annoyed and Sheppard straightened up in his seat.

"Yessir. When do we leave?" The answer was curt and to the point, years of command showing through in the tone of voice, whether it be at the head of a military SG team or the head of Homeworld Security.

"Now. I want the _Daedalus_ out of orbit within the hour." Sheppard stood without a word and saluted with uncharacteristic crispness. McKay put down his red marker and left the briefing room, with Sheppard following after. Pausing at the exit, Sheppard turned back towards the pair.

"Sir, if I may ask…what did you say to General Landry earlier?" O'Neill smiled faintly.

"I said I wished Carter was here." Sheppard smiled sympathetically and laughed briefly, shaking his head as he left, leaving Generals Landry and O'Neill alone. The latter sighed, looking unusually tired.

"Well, Jack," Landry said quietly, "I think we may have a problem. If that fleet reaches Earth we can't be sure it will go unnoticed. We knew Anubis' agenda, we don't know theirs." O'Neill tapped his pen against the top of the table again then placed it on top of his notes, which were conspicuously blank.

"Double the military contingent and ATA gene carriers at the Antarctic Outpost. If we need to fire the drone weapons I want to be able to at a moments notice." Landry leaned forward.

"Are you getting paranoid in your old age, Jack?" O'Neill sighed and sat back, resting his interlinked hands on his stomach.

"I'm in the world of politics now, Hank. I'll take life-or-death off world any day compared to the backstabbing and manoeuvring I have to deal with on a daily basis."

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed! Here are some responses to those who did: **

**Red Leader: Thanks**

**Worker72: I hope I can live up to expectations – expect the action to start next chapter.**

**Kingrahat: Did I make you wait too long? :P**

**Scotjunkie: Glad you like it.**

**Jon Harper: Just let me know if it doesn't keep good enough to continue.**

**Clifton: I dunno…is Earth going to war with Cylons in the first place? Besides, they seem to have done well while fighting several wars without the general public finding out.**

**Ercm: I thought the same thing, but I have a confession: I have only seen two episodes of BSG, but it really made an impression on me.**

**Blinxnot: And here it is. Heh.**

**Berry: Thanks for the words of support!**

**Mr Reviewer: I don't quite share your opinion of BSG, but I hope I might soon.**

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**Southdakotaboy: Your wish is my command.**

**Constructive criticism is always welcome, and is often the most useful sort of review, provided at least some positive points are thrown in.**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_


	3. Standard Recon, Cylons Included

**Just a heads up for this chapter: I used a fan-estimate of the **_**Daedalus'**_** length, so it's just an educated guess. I'm sorry if I got anything about **_**Galactica**_ **wrong, but I have only seen two episodes and I'm mainly relying on the Battlestar Wiki for my information. In the next chapter I will try to get some **_**Galactica **_**in…anybody who can help me with the characterisations would be helpful. Also, what's with all these story alerts but no reviews from them?**

**PS: I could also really use a beta reader.**

* * *

Space rent and tore as a pulsing wound of greenish light appeared, tendrils of escaping energy from the hyperspace window spreading outwards in the surrounding space. Within a split second the form of the _Daedalus_ emerged from the window and hurtled out into space, slowing rapidly to a halt several miles away. The hyperspace window shrunk and faded away behind the battlecruiser, leaving it alone in empty space.

Building a space-going vessel was difficult, especially when they had to contend with other races that had no such restrictions, and indeed sometimes had full blown shipyards. But the production facilities under the Nevada Desert had done themselves proud, churning out roughly one ship of the class every year. The ridiculously high funding helped as well.

Measuring at around 600 meters long the _Daedalus_ was a sleek design, with the ship flanked by two hanger pods which each contained eight of the F302 space superiority fighters, which were themselves a blend of alien and human technology. Vertical-launch missile tubes were positioned at the front of the ship, while railguns were tactically located over most of the ship's vital surfaces, providing 360 degree coverage of the surrounding space. Few were the places that the _Daedalus_ could not strike as, though her advantage was in a direct run at the enemy where she could bring all her weapons to bear.

The _Daedalus_ was an impressively armed ship for her small size. Goa'uld vessels were larger, and Wraith Hive Ships out-classed her in size, raw firepower and fighter complement. She had been the first ship of her class, and her line was commonly called the _Daedalus_-Class Battlecruiser rather than their official designation of the BC304.

The _Daedalus_ line had succeeded the _Prometheus_ as the ship design for Earth's space faring fleet, and incorporated the alien technologies acquired through the Stargate into its design, putting it centuries if not a good millennia ahead of standard technological development on Earth.

Equipped with railguns and naquadah-enhanced nuclear missiles the ship could pack a punch in a galaxy where bigger was usually considered better. Goa'uld motherships were built just as much for intimidation at their massive size as for battle, but the shipyards at Area 51 had no such delusions. Every inch of the _Daedalus_ was useful space, whether it be weapons, engines or shields.

Despite that, before Asgard beam weaponry had been installed on the ship it had still been a vicious battle between the Wraith and _Daedalus_ during their engagements, and Wraith Hive Ships were more than capable of driving the smaller ship off. The crew had become quite adept at jumping in, inflicting as much damage as possible with the railguns and jumping out again when the shields reached failure point.

But the Asgard weapons changed things. Where once Caldwell would have hesitated to even set foot he could confidently enter in the knowledge that the _Daedalus_ could hold on long enough to inflict devastating damage. The last gifts of the dying Asgard had essentially turned the balance of power in the _Daedalus'_ favour, along with the other ships of her line. Enhanced intergalactic hyperdrives, powerful shields, devastating weaponry…it was the wet dream of any science enthusiast.

Even with those benefits Colonel Stephen Caldwell was a consummate commander, and considered the _Daedalus_ as his ship in a deeply possessive way. She had seen him through battles against Wraith and Replicators without fail against the greatest odds. McKay and other scientists might know how her innards worked, but he knew how she handled overall better than anyone else. He was proud of his ship.

Caldwell glanced around the bridge, checking that everything was operating as he wanted it. He ran a tight ship, and the _Daedalus_ had seen her fair share of battles. The crew was well used to combat and the stresses of working under pressure. They were all consummate professionals, and some of the best in the world. Proud was not a word often used to describe Stephen Caldwell, because it didn't show. But he was.

To his right sat the navigator, who controlled the ships propulsion and shielding systems, while to his left was the tactical station which controlled the ship's weapon systems. Most of the ship could be monitored from the bridge, centralising the vital functions. Colonel Sheppard was hanging around the back of the bridge, watching Rodney finish tweaking the sensor system.

Caldwell had mixed feelings about Colonel Sheppard being onboard for a mission that didn't need his skills. Caldwell technically outranked Sheppard, who was only a Lieutenant Colonel, and his command of the _Daedalus _was unquestioned, but the two military men had butted heads more than once. Sheppard was almost notoriously maverick with his battle plans and tactics, and exhibited a reluctance to follow orders he didn't believe in. In Caldwell's opinion he threw the chain of command out the window whenever he damn well felt like it.

But he had to admit Sheppard had proved himself in the past three or so years more than once, and a sort of grudging respect had developed between the two men. Caldwell was generally inclined to hold off the big guns until the last second for Sheppard, who had a knack for coming through in the nick of time. For anyone else it would have been going in railguns blazing the second trouble came up.

Rodney McKay was a similar matter. The man was insufferably arrogant and so completely sure of his own intelligence it was unnerving. Project Arcturus had been a good example, and Caldwell had witnessed the results of McKay's arrogance blowing up in face first hand. The Ancient experiment in extracting energy from their own universe had ended in disaster and destroyed the majority of the solar system when the reaction ran away from the over-confident scientist. The _Daedalus_ had barely jumped away in time.

So McKay did have all his bluster thrown back at him in the form of failure every now and them, but Caldwell had to admit that he had his merits and skills, not unlike Sheppard. It had been McKay who had wrote a program that increased shield power on the _Daedalus_ by more than half, which Caldwell had been immensely pleased by. Admittedly he had his intellect supercharged by an Ancient device at the time, but it was still a worthy contribution.

To his credit, McKay had mellowed over the intervening years, and he was more tolerable, though equally sure of his own intelligence. Perhaps all the failures had an effect or maybe being in a team rather than alone had had a positive contribution to his personality. Whatever the reasons, Caldwell was grateful to have him aboard, if only because he was increasing sensor system efficiency to help with the reconnaissance.

As if timed precisely to Caldwell's thought on the subject, Rodney finished his sensor modifications, tapping at his tablet computer for a moment as he altered the power flow. He walked to the head of the bridge, still tapping at his screen, then looked up at Caldwell.

"Oooo-kay, sensors are working at 350 normal range. Just let me know if you plan on getting into a firefight." Sheppard paused for a moment, and Caldwell seemed to having the same thought. The commander turned in his seat and looked straight at the scientist.

"Why would that matter, Doctor McKay?" Rodney looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if he knew the news wasn't going to be received well.

"Well, I may have taken power from the shielding system to power the modifications…" Caldwell's reaction was instantaneous and his tone was biting.

"What? Can't you take it from non-vital systems? Doctor, I don't want this ship crippled if we're attacked." Rodney looked away for a moment, as if he was searching for strength to endure stupidity.

"I don't know if you noticed, but non-vital systems don't use that much power. Besides, it's not like they're going to fail at the first impact." Seeing the unreassured look on Caldwell's face and the unsure look on Sheppard's, Rodney quickly added on some other information. "Look, the power can be diverted back to shields instantly if they need to be reinforced." Caldwell leaned back in his chair.

"Fine, but I want it done the second we have any contacts. For now, let's do our jobs. Have you got any sensor data?" Rodney turned to a station on the side of the bridge, where data was rapidly scrolling over the computer screen. He ran his finger down a particular part and made a surprised sound.

"Huh…at this range we still can't tell how many ships there are, but it looks like at least sixty ships, maybe more." Sheppard and Caldwell exchanged worried glances. Sheppard spoke first.

"If those ships are armed-"

"Which we have to assume they are," Caldwell added.

"-then the drone weapons might be the only thing capable of stopping that many ships." Rodney was still scrutinising the sensor readings when he cut in, raising his arm and a finger to get their attention.

"No…I'm only reading one ship larger than a Goa'uld mothership…I'm not getting clear readings at this distance, but it looks like most of them are even smaller than the _Daedalus_." Sheppard looked indecisive for a moment, then asked the question.

"Could they be like the Travellers?" The Travellers had resorted to living in space to avoid the threat of the Wraith, and operated a large fleet. They even had an Ancient warship, which they had forced Sheppard to help repair. Rodney seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Maybe…if we could get closer-"

"Out of the question," Caldwell snapped. "Need I remind you of our orders? 'No contact.'"

"Well, either way," Sheppard commented, "we have more accurate intelligence now. Not the best, but it's something." Caldwell nodded slowly, resting his chin on one hand as he deliberated.

"We can't risk a transmission being intercepted. We have to at least get part of the way back to Earth before we-" At that moment the navigation officer interrupted.

"Sir! Sensors are picking up an unknown contact about seven hundred kilometres away." Caldwell frowned.

"That can't be right. We would have detected it before now. Did it jump in?" Rodney leaned back from sensor screen, looking surprised.

"No…there was a burst of energy, but it wasn't a hyperspace window." Caldwell shook his head.

"Whatever the reason, its here now. Status?" The navigation officer frowned and tapped at his controls.

"They haven't raised shields…I don't think they detected us." Rodney was still looking over the sensor data, but specifically of the new ship. He sounded surprised and a little sceptical.

"They haven't raised shields because they don't have any. No shield generators, hyperdrive, not even any lifesigns." There was a beep from his console, and the Canadian scientist frowned. "That's interesting…its partially organic." The reaction was immediate, Sheppard whipping his head up from where he was looking over the navigator's shoulder.

"Like a Wraith ship?" Rodney shook his head.

"No…Wraith ships are almost entirely organic; this is mostly mechanical, but there are definite organic components."

"Sir, the unknown ship is moving towards us, and I'm detecting new contacts. Fighters, sir. Hundreds." Caldwell looked to the side for a moment, then began issuing orders.

"Well they detected us now. Raise shields. Doctor McKay, divert the sensor power to shields – no point taking chances. Ready railguns and Asgard beams and stand-by to beam a warhead into that ship." Rodney began tapping at his tablet, deactivating his sensor modifications. Sheppard leaned forward, still behind the navigator's station.

"Maybe we should try talking to them." Caldwell nodded.

"Open a subspace channel." The tactical officer, taking some workload off the navigation station, tapped at some of her controls.

"Open, sir."

"This is Colonel Stephen Caldwell of the Earth ship _Daedalus_. State your intentions." There was a pause, but no reply. Caldwell tried again. "If you do not recall your fighters it will be considered an act of aggression, and we will respond in kind." After another pause, he looked over at the tactical officer, who shook her head.

"Well," Sheppard said. "It doesn't look like they want to talk."

"Sir, fighters have just entered weapons range. Orders?" Caldwell sighed.

"Military thrust. Target railguns on the fighters. If they fire a shot, destroy them." There was a momentary flurry of activity around the bridge as the crew carried out the orders.

"Military thrust, aye sir." There was a momentary shudder as the sublight engines activated and propelled the ship forward towards the approaching Raiders. There was a moment of silence, then the space between the fighters and the _Daedalus_ lit up.

Missiles streaked out from the Raiders and impacted against the shield of the battlecruiser, the protective bubble lighting up a bright blue as it absorbed the energy of the missile impacts. It only took a moment for the railguns to return fire. The yellowish-orange bolts lanced out from the hull of the _Daedalus_, the efficient and powerful targeting systems blanketing the area of space the Raiders occupied.

But no matter how fast or accurately the railguns fired, they couldn't destroy them all. Most of the Cylon bio-mechanical fighters emerged unscathed from the killing field of space the _Daedalus_ had and began to bank and turn, making strafing runs on the ship. Small explosions and weapon impacts made the entire shield pulse with light, and the muted thumps of weapons fire could be heard inside the bridge.

The tactical officer shook his head, radar screen swarming with contacts. Outside the bridge observation window the attack was clearly visible, though much of the view was obscured by the shield. "Sir, we simply can't destroy them all with the ammunition we have on board. They move too fast." Rodney monitored the shields carefully, then frowned.

"I'm detecting an attempt on the Daedalus computer systems…" Sheppard looked only vaguely put out, but worry radiated from him.

"Then stop it, McKay. That's what you're good at, right?" The Canadian scientist frowned, accessing a log from his station.

"I didn't have to," he commented. "The Asgard computer system wiped it out. It looks like the fighters are transmitting it." Sheppard looked out the observation window at the crackle of the shields and the swarming Raiders, the muted thumps still audible.

"So if we destroy the fighters, the virus stops?" Rodney nodded, and made a suggestion.

"The shields could withstand a Mark VII detonating outside the ship, but the fighters wouldn't." Sheppard glanced over at Caldwell, who looked indecisive for a moment, then nodded, hitting the communications button for engineering on his armrest.

"Novak. Can you beam a Mark VII tactical warhead outside the shield?" There was a momentary silence, then the nervous engineer responded, her voice occasionally interrupted by a nervous hiccup.

"Are you sure…hic…that's wise, sir?" Caldwell sounded more tolerantly exasperated than annoyed when he replied.

"Just do it, Novak." There was silence again, then five seconds later the world went white. The bridge crew shielded their eyes and the light began to fade, the naquadah-enhanced nuclear detonation dying along with the Raiders which were seconds ago bombarding the shield.

The tactical officer examined her screen as the static from the nuclear detonation cleared, then made a sensor sweep. "Fighters destroyed, sir. Orders?" Caldwell, now in his element of ship-to-ship combat, didn't waste time.

"Maximum thrust to intercept the enemy mothership. Prepare Asgard beams. No point wasting a nuke on a ship without shields. Doctor McKay, what is our shield status?" Rodney looked away from the station he had appropriated for a second towards the centre of the bridge.

"Shields are at 60, but mostly because of the Mark VII. Those fighters didn't even make a dent. No energy weapons detectable on that ship out there, either." Caldwell brushed it off.

"Doesn't mean they don't have them, Doctor. Distance to intercept?" The reply took a moment.

"One hundred and fifty kilometres to target, Sir." Looking out the forward observation window the crew got their first look at a Cylon Baseship. It certainly looked alien, but it also looked fragile, the two Y-shaped wings connected by a thick central column. It was clearly larger than the _Daedalus_, but seemed technologically inferior.

"Huh…it must be a carrier ship. It doesn't look like it has any armaments…" Rodney came up behind the tactical chair while holding his tablet, almost paralleling Sheppard's position on the other side of the bridge. Then there was a shout.

"Multiple missiles incoming, sir. Some nuclear." Sheppard sighed as small white trails of exhaust trailed out from the basestar, moving to meet the battlecruiser head on.

"You were saying about armaments, McKay?" The scientist shrugged helplessly. Colonel Caldwell was not so helpless.

"Target railguns and shoot them down. Distance to beam weapon range?" The tactical officer only had to look at her screen for brief second to respond.

"Fifty kilometres, sir. Eleven seconds." In four seconds the missiles entered railgun range, the swarm of conventional and nuclear alike converging. The railguns spat out their shot at close to Mach V, destroying several missiles instantly. But they were not designed to create a screen to stop oncoming missiles, and the precision weapons simply didn't have the time to get them all.

The missiles impacted three seconds before the _Daedalus_ entered weapons range of the basestar, the smaller ship consumed in a nuclear fireball which slowly expanded in an impressive display; testament to multiple impacts. Two seconds later the _Daedalus_ emerged like a phoenix from the ashes, shields glimmering faintly as the strain eased away, nuclear fire left behind.

One second later, the _Daedalus_ fired. The beam weapons fired from the prow of the battlecruiser, the blue bolts of charged energy moving slower than it seemed they should, almost lazily across the intervening space. The first shot impacted the central column, slicing into the structure and discharging its energy in an expanding fireball which proceeded to rip a large chunk out of the baseship.

The second beam struck the underside of one of the top wings, again cutting through the metal and deep into the innards of the ship. As the resulting explosion reached its full glory half of that wing ripped off, fragments of superheated metal flying out from the fracture point.

The third and final beam hit the very base of the central column, the extent of the damage to the basestar's structural integrity changing in that instant from critical to fatal, secondary explosions rippling outward. The _Daedalus_ gracefully banked away as the basestar ripped itself apart.

For a moment silence reigned on the bridge, punctuated only by an impressed 'nice' from Sheppard. Then Caldwell took charge again, ordering the debris scanned for information, technology, anything that could indicate who the attackers were. The crew moved about their new task while Caldwell and Sheppard ran through the after-battle report on ship functions.

"Railguns?"

"All undamaged, ammunition at 42."

"Shields?"

"54. Those nukes were only in the low kiloton range. If we hadn't used the Mark VIII to get rid of those fighters we would probably be almost undamaged."

"Hull?"

"Undamaged." Caldwell settled back in his chair, looking surprised. Sheppard went through the checklist by himself, then shook his head. "Other than the ammunition lost from the railguns, the Mark VIII and some shield depletion we didn't lose anything." Rodney chose that point to finish scanning the wreckage and interrupt.

"That would be because their technology is, quite frankly, pathetic. Other than figuring out how they avoided being detected so long, I don't see anything special. They are still using conventional missiles and don't even have any shielding. Honestly? I don't think they pose a threat at all. We have all the sensor data we should need. We might as well just go back over it on Earth." Caldwell slowly nodded.

"Very well. Set a course back for Earth. We will report back to General Landry on the way. I'm sure they will be eager to debrief us once we get back." Rodney rolled his eyes and moved off, just as the sensors let out a beep and the _Daedalus_ opened a hyperspace window, heading back to Earth.

In the darkness of space a Raptor hung there, the pair of Colonials staring out at the shattered wreckage of the Cylon basestar and remembering what they saw in the first two seconds after they jumped in. The pilot could hear his voice shaking as he talked to his ECO, plotting an FTL jump back to _Galactica_ and the Fleet.

"Tell me the scanners picked that up. Tell me the scanners picked that ship up."

* * *

**Some responses to relevant and particularly useful reviews: **

**Both andrewjameswilliams(who shares two out of three names in my full name) and JohnHarper both noticed that in Stargate standard recon's never go according to plan. Perceptive little buggers, because they were right.**

**Fayrwel, in his…strange review…pointed out that chapters could use a little more length. This is a good idea, but unfortunately I can never get a scene finished or a good chunk finished and not want to get it out of sight. Still, I hope this makes him feel a bit better.**

**JimBeamer asked if SG1 characters will be making an appearance. Daniel probably will, this is up his alley…but I'm not sure about the others. O'Neill, of course, is a given.**

**Special thanks to andrewjameswilliams again for mentioning the Cylon logic bomb. Once I looked it up I knew I had to include it, and I had actually finished the chapter by then, so I added a paragraph or two on it.**

**Worker72 raised some concerns which should probably be addressed. I set this after Ark of Truth because I know the series best as a whole. And I despised the Prometheus with a healthy passion. Replicators didn't get everywhere in the Galaxy, and might not have encountered the fleeing colonials or the Cylons. Abydos was the closest Stargate to Earth: it was the only one that could be dialed without compensating for stellar drift. **

**Other than that, I'll repeat my mantra: constructive criticism is always welcome, and is often the most useful sort of review, provided at least some positive points are thrown in.**

_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_


	4. Galactica

**Four days between updates...that wasn't so bad, right? I just needed a good burst of inspiration to churn this _Galactica_ chapter out. I'm sorry for the mysterious Chapter Four alert. It was made in the wake of watching the mid-season finale where I questioned how I should adapt the story, but the consensus seems to be to run with it. On another note, whats with all the story alerts but no reviews? It's good enough to keep an eye on but not to review? I can't improve the story without constructive criticism and it drives me to do more chapters the more positive reviews I get. You only hurt yourself by not reviewing. And me.  
**

* * *

_Galactica_ was a battered ship, a behemoth floating in the void of space. Ribbing showed where protective armour had been destroyed or blasted off, leaving the inner hull visible. The gap between the two hulls was meant to diffuse the energy from explosions and missiles in the empty space, but it couldn't do that when there was nothing between the vulnerable inner hull and enemy attack

She was old and worn but she refused to give up. In truth she had been decommissioned and turned into a museum ship just before the attacks. Attack after attack had dulled her teeth and bit at her armour but she still acted as guardian of the civilian fleet. All that remained of the human race, save perhaps the Thirteenth Tribe, if they still lived. She had no shields, no energy weapons, but she had survived more battles than any battlecruiser from Earth could claim to have fought in.

Unlike the Cylon Basestars, which almost entirely preferred missiles, the Colonial Battlestars and by extension _Galactica_ were much more cannon oriented. The payload was driven by similar processes to a handgun as the expanding gases of the firing mechanism pushed the shell out of the twin barrels of the battery. The _Daedalus_ relied on the high velocity of her railgun shells to do damage, the _Galactica _simply loaded up her guns and blew the enemy apart in a fashion that would make naval commanders nostalgic.

Inside his personal office Admiral Adama sat back in his chair, carefully turning a page of one of his many books. Perhaps the last real collection of books from the Twelve Colonies, and he was loathe to damage them. They were more than just history now, they were heritage. They were his own personal library as well, though, and they were filled with books of a serious nature, the great literary works of the Twelve Colonies.

Sometimes it felt as if his desk had roughly the same amount of paperwork in neat piles. Back on Caprica, before the Cylon genocide of the human race, Adama would have been buried in it had he been in so many battles. But here as commander of the last battlestar in existence he received reports rather than made them. The military loathing of paperwork lived on in the bowels of _Galactica_, but it all eventually made it to the Old Man.

To the side of his desk the intercom crackled occasionally with distorted voices. He was never, ever unavailable. He was the commander of the _Galactica_, and that meant he was responsible for the defence of the fleet if the Cylon's showed up, and that meant defence of all that was left of humanity. It was not a duty that he took lightly.

But it was a duty that meant hard choices came with the package. Choices that killed pilots, officers, civilians…other people that he condemned with an order or inaction. He wasn't a saint. It was impossible to be a saint with the survival of an entire race on his shoulders, the survival of a culture. But William Adama was a good man at heart, and he felt the burden acutely.

"_Pass the word for Admiral Adama to the CIC."_ The intercom message was clear, even above all the distortion and static. Adama pressed up his glasses and leaned over his desk, flicking the switch on the intercom to turn it off. With that done, he rose and exited his office, straightening his uniform.

When he entered the CIC it was a bustle of activity. Unlike the bridge of the _Daedalus_ it had no observation windows or portals to the outside world. No vulnerable materials for the enemy to exploit, no lucky shots. The Combat Information Center was the heart of _Galactica_ and by extension the entire fleet. He nodded to Saul Tigh, his XO, as he came to the middle of the room. Tigh took the nod as an unspoken invitation to report.

"Nuclear detonation not far away, and it's a biggun. Looks like the skinjobs are taking shots at each other again." It was common knowledge among the command staff that the Cylon's were in the middle of a civil war. The fact had been grimly satisfying, but there was always the danger it would spill over to _Galactica_ and the civilian fleet.

"Set condition one through the fleet and distribute emergency jump coordinates. We can't risk the Cylon's finding us. Dispatch a Raptor to investigate." There was a moment of increased movement around the CIC as Adama's orders were carried out, orders echoed into intercoms and wireless. The lights were tinged by a red hue and the sound of an alarm. All around the ship _Galactica's_ crew scrambled to battle stations.

"Raptor is away." Lt. Gaeta reported, manning the DRADIS console with his usual sharp eye and alertness. Adama turned to Tigh, the XO's eye patch making him look far older than he actually was. The grizzled executive officer was checking the readiness of the battlestar's weapon systems.

"Has the Raptor scouting the nearby system reported back yet?" Tigh turned and wordlessly shook his head. If the Cylon's arrived in force they would have no choice but to abandon the pilots and the Raptor. They had the emergency jump coordinates and if they survived the Cylon's they could make it back to _Galactica_, but nobody liked taking the risk.

Tigh looked tense, which Adama had noticed over the last few months. Although they were no longer under constant attack the constant running was beginning to take a higher and higher toll on everyone. Although the alcoholism of his XO was now for mere comfort rather than rendering him oblivious to the world the scars of the New Caprica occupation were still there, and not just his missing eye. Tigh missed his wife. Everybody had lost somebody important over the few years on _Galactica_ and New Caprica.

"Sir? _Colonial One_ is moving to dock." Anastasia Dualla had a rich history herself. Previously the XO of the Battlestar _Pegasus_, now destroyed, she had settled in fairly well into the _Galactica_ CIC, and with a lesser position she was still reliable and loyal, something Adama appreciated. Lesser officers would not have been so tolerant.

"Inform the President I-" He was interrupted by Lieutenant Gaeta turning in his seat with another report.

"Sir, multiple nuclear detonations, same position." Adama and Tigh exchanged a worried look, Tigh venturing what everybody was thinking.

"The Cylons' are really frakking each other out there. Doesn't look like two basestars just stumbling across each other. That's a full blown battle." Adama nodded slowly. The more Cylons killing each other the better, in his opinion, but with more basestars the greater the risk of discovery. There was a moment of silence.

"Spin up the jump drive and contact the fleet. The further we are away from here the better. All ships may jump when ready. Is _Colonial One_ aboard?"

"Aye, sir." The reply was crisp and instant. Adama nodded.

"Then lets go. You know the drill. We wait until all ships are away then we jump." With no more orders to dispatch, Adama just let the babble and murmurs of the CIC wash over him. He didn't need to give out any orders until the _Galactica_ was ready to jump or the situation changed. He could feel the tension around him like a physical force.

"Sir, our Raptor just jumped in." Adama raised his head as Tigh looked up himself from the station he was currently observing. His voice crossed the room easily as Gaeta leaned forward over his DRADIS screen, identifying the ship.

"Which one?" Gaeta's features relaxed.

"The one observing the battle, sir."

"Take it aboard. Status of the fleet?" Adama was once again in control, his hands smoothing over the panels of the lit table integrated into the middle of the CIC.

"Half the fleet has jumped away, sir." Adama sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He could imagine the small ships around _Galactica_ vanishing in flashes of brilliant white light, flaring for a brief moment before vanishing and leaving nothing but empty space behind.

The next minute and a half passed with relative calm, Gaeta on watch for any unknown contacts on DRADIS and Tigh standing over the various stations and checking everything was done right. Then the moment that Adama had been waiting for came.

"Sir, all ships are away." The Admiral nodded, and looked about the CIC for a moment, as if checking everything was ready with a single glance. His eyes fell on one officer in particular. He nodded.

"My board is green sir, jump preparations are complete." Adama straightened up.

"When ready."

"In 5…4…3…2…1…jump." The _Galactica _vanished in a flash of light. There was a moment of disorientation…

* * *

That moment of disorientation seemed to stretch out much longer for Laura Roslin as she sat in the briefing room of _Galactica_, listening to the Raptor crew describe the their actions leading up to the encounter between the Cylon basestar and the ship which had destroyed it. To her right sat Admiral Adama and to her left Saul Tigh. Both were men that could only be described as 'grizzled' and were highly respected on _Galactica_.

On the podium was the pilot of the Raptor. The ECO officer was waiting nervously in the wings for his turn in front of the commander of the Fleet's military and the President of the Twelve Colonies. What was left of the Twelve Colonies, anyway. Roslin had been the Secretary of Education when the duty had been thrust on her after the Cylon genocide.

She had done her best to ensure the survival of Fleet and by extension humanity, and it had cost her a great deal. Admiral Adama had to make sacrifices for the greater good, but Laura Roslin shouldered far more morally questionable burdens. Her actions had caused considerable friction over the years, including the Admiral once heading a military coup.

Things were made worse by her cancer, which was incurable and terminal. There wasn't a doubt that she was going to die, it was more a question of when. Her dioxin treatments were painful and uncomfortable, leaving her weak and forcing her to wear a wig when her hair fell out. But Roslin was fiercely committed to her goal of seeing the fleet through to Earth.

But despite it all the bond between her and the Admiral had only strengthened. Originally she had held him in something approaching awe, but now she saw him as a man rather than an ideal or culmination of history. She could not help but feel affectionate towards him, and he towards her. Their rough exterior rarely showed it, but it was there.

So she couldn't resist a smile when Adama leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You would think all the military training would stop them being scared of us." She speared the Raptor pilot with a sharp look and leaned forward.

"We appreciate you being thorough, but skip ahead to when you jumped in and saw the ships." The pilot coughed uncomfortably, mumbling a 'yes madam President' and trying to calm his nerves. He took a deep breath and began his report in a much more professional if still somewhat shaky tone.

"When we jumped in we got a DRADIS lock on the Cylon baseship immediately, and plenty of missile launches, some of them nukes. But we couldn't see what they were shooting at besides a distortion on the screen, so we had to make visual contact. It was a small ship, smaller even than some of the civilian ships. We got an eyeball on it just before the nukes hit. The radiological alarm was going mad."

Admiral Adama scribbled a note down on a pad in front of him, and didn't even look up as he asked the next question. "It couldn't stop them? Flak defenses?"

"None that we could see, sir. They had some batteries and were firing them very quickly, more like a marine's rifle than the main guns on _Galactica_. I haven't seen anything like it, sir." Adama interrupted.

"Stick to the point."

"Yes sir. They hit some of the missiles, but the nukes hit. We didn't think it could survive that." Adama's pen paused for a moment over the pad, almost as if surprised. Roslin leaned forward.

"It did survive?" The pilot nodded towards her.

"Yes, madam President. The nuclear explosions had made DRADIS useless, so we couldn't tell how many detonations there were, exactly. We think there were maybe three or four." Adama didn't look incredulous; he didn't doubt the words of the Raptor crew. But he was surprised. The pilot continued with his report.

"It did more than survive, it wasn't even scratched, at least not that we could see. We were pretty far away." Adama started making notes again, the dry scratching of his pen one of the few sounds in the room.

"I find that difficult to believe. No damage at all? Missing plating, fires, venting?" The pilot shook his head.

"We couldn't see clearly sir, and the scanners still couldn't see the ship, let alone with all the nukes. But it didn't look like it, and we didn't see any debris once the flash cleared." Adama nodded, reserving his judgement of the account for later, head bowed. Tigh was uncharacteristically silent, and it fell to Roslin to prompt again.

"And what happened to the baseship?" The pilot hesitated and looked to his fellow officer for support, the ECO nodding back. The pause didn't go unnoticed, and Adama looked up from his pad.

"Well, sir…when the ship got close it…that is…" He swallowed. "Beams of light just reached out and…blew the baseship apart." Adama set his pen down and folded his hands.

"Beams of light," the Admiral said flatly.

"…yes, sir."

"Can you be more specific?" The question seemed to throw the pilot, and he again looked to his ECO for support.

"Well…there were three of them, one after the other. They just hit the basestar and where they hit it exploded." There was a moment of silence. Roslin, sensing this was a military matter outside her understanding, said nothing. Neither did Adama, mulling the statement over. Tigh asked the question that nobody had gotten around to yet.

"What happened to the ship?" The pilot seemed less tense all of a sudden, as if realising he was finished explaining the hard bit.

"Well sir, it seemed to hang around the baseship wreckage for about half a minute, then it suddenly accelerated and vanished in a flash of light." Adama nodded slowly.

"So it had a jump drive?" The pilot, despite the easy nature of the question, looked uncomfortable.

"Well…I suppose so sir, but it wasn't any jump drive I've ever seen." There was another few moments of silence.

"Very well," the Admiral eventually said calmly. "Dismissed."

The pilot practically wilted in relief and left at a brisk pace as if he worried he could be called back. His ECO hesitated then followed. Silence again reigned in the briefing room until Adama shifted and turned his gaze to Tigh.

"Do we have the footage and readings from the Raptor yet?" Tigh shook his head, looking pensive and a little thoughtful.

"No…Chief Tyrol and Mr. Gaeta are still extracting it from the Raptor. They said it would take at least an hour." Adama sighed and looked down at his notes, at scribbles and carefully annotated observations on the testimony of the pilot which seemed for all intents and purposes to be nonsense to a military mind. Such things just didn't exist. Tigh tried to make sense of at least some of it.

"If the ship was invisible to DRADIS, maybe it was some form of Stealthstar, or had a composite hull like the Blackbird Tyrol and the deck crew made. I don't know about those beams of light, but lasers? It's always possible." Roslin leaned forward and joined the conversation, instantly taking charge with the soft but authoritative tone that had so defined her presidency.

"Whatever it was, we have to consider that this ship could be from the Thirteenth Tribe. From Earth. If they attacked the Cylon's that means they could be on our side…" Tigh interrupted quickly.

"And if it attacked the Cylon's we could be frakked if we run into the damn thing! We can't risk it." Adama tapped the tip of his pen against the briefing table, unknowingly echoing the idle habit of O'Neill.

"Whatever the case, we can't go searching for it. If we run into that ship regular procedure applies. _Galactica_ guards the fleet jumping away, then we follow. We won't fight it unless it attacks first, but we can't take the risk. I'm sorry, Laura." Roslin looked disappointed, and turned away, looking into the air for a moment.

"Well I might not understand lasers and composite hulls, but I as much as I hate to admit it, I think we know a scientist who probably does."

* * *

Gaius Baltar watched the grainy footage of the battle of the Cylon basestar with increasing incredulity. At the end of the footage, which captured the ship vanishing in a flash of light, he turned around to the three sitting at the table. Adama and Tigh had been watching the footage along with Baltar, but Roslin had been more interested in the scientist.

Gaius Baltar was undeniably arrogant and undeniably brilliant. His history was chequered and hardly inspiring. He had been accused of treason more than once, though he had been found innocent in all cases. In a way he was guilty of treason, though nobody knew it. He had given the access codes that allowed the Cylon's to destroy the Colonial Fleet to a Cylon agent, though he hadn't known it at the time.

Furthermore he had been Vice President then President of the Twelve Colonies. He was a political force, using his charisma to good effect. So when the fleet settled on a habitable planet they discovered, seemingly safe from the Cylon's. Baltar had insisted they occupy 'New Caprica' and build there permanently.

So when the Cylon's came and occupied the planet Baltar was stuck between the rock that was the Cylon's and the hard place that was the Colonials. As President Baltar had become the figurehead for the Cylon occupation and universally despised for it. When _Galactica_ launched a rescue mission and freed most of the Colonials on New Caprica Baltar was not among them. Instead the Cylon's had taken him.

He was a brilliant scientist and had a healthy attitude towards self-preservation, which had no doubt helped him survive with the Cylon's. So when he was captured by Colonial forces at the Temple of the Five he was brought back as a traitor. His trial had nearly not even happened at all, but due process had won over summary execution.

He had been found innocent of treason, the opinion of the court swayed by the argument that Baltar had merely been a figurehead for the Cylon's, not complicit. After his release Baltar had drawn what could only be described as a cult around him. The monotheistic group was not well received in the middle of a polytheistic fleet, but Baltar was winning over followers with illegal wireless broadcasts. He wasn't a political force yet, but he was hardly insignificant, despite Roslin's efforts.

So it was with some quiet discontent that Roslin had requested Baltar's help. Her opinions about him were not unbiased, but he was a nuisance. Brilliant, but a nuisance, and she didn't like him. So she felt a certain grim satisfaction when he turned around wearing a face she had learned to recognise from when he was thrown off balance.

"That is impossible. That is…impossible!" Adama sighed and muttered under his breath to Roslin.

"So much for him understanding it." Baltar raised a finger as if to object but then paused. He didn't understand it.

"Look, these are not 'lasers'. Lasers move at the speed of light. These don't. Whatever they are…they just…I don't know what they are. And I don't care what sort of hull plating you have, no ship that size can survive that many nuclear strikes. It simply isn't possible. Not impossible to understand, just _impossible_." Adama was not impressed by the tirade.

"Apparently not. What could the beams be?" Baltar turned on the spot, hands up in the air then pressing against his head as he paced. If there was one word that could be used to describe him when he was worried or put on the spot it was 'uncontrolled'.

"I don't…not lasers…so…maybe? It could be plasma. But containment, you just can't do it. But it has to be, nothing else…" Roslin sighed, taking off her glasses and squeezing the bridge of her nose. The last thing she needed was one of Baltar's rants.

"What do you think it could be, Doctor?" Baltar paused for a moment, staring at the footage as it began to repeat.

"Plasma. It has to be plasma. I don't know how, but it must be. Nothing else would glow, be so slow moving, do such damage…well, nothing that I know. Or anybody knows." Adama asked the question that occupied most of his attention.

"If one of those hit _Galactica_…what sort of damage would there be?" There was a poignant pause, all attention focusing on Baltar, waiting for his answer. The scientist stuttered for a moment, visibly thinking.

"Well, ah…it would superheat the hull at point of contact…burn through it. If it hit the air inside the ship…it would create a heat wave. Explosion, probably. Anybody nearby would be incinerated or badly burned. Ah, and if…hm…if it hit anything flammable, the heat would make it ignite, explode, or just vaporise. If it hit the Tylium fuel though…the explosion would cripple _Galactica_. Or the payloads on the missiles or batteries..." It was exactly the sort of thing Adama didn't want to hear.

"Not only that," Baltar continued, seemingly oblivious to anything else, "Look at this acceleration." His finger followed the _Daedalus_ leaping into a hyperspace window in a sudden burst of speed. "No human could survive that sort of acceleration. Nobody." Adama sighed. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what he could think.

"In any case, we can't risk a confrontation with this…thing. This ship. We just keep searching for Earth and follow the markers and hope we never-"

"_Admiral Adama to the CIC. Pass the word for Admiral Adama."_ Adama looked over at Tigh as an officer entered the room and whispered in the ear of the XO. Tigh glanced over at the Admiral.

"It's the other Raptor. They're back, and they say they've found something."

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who did review! Trust me, I read and appreciated every single one, even if you didn't get a specific mention, I didn't forget a single one while I was writing this. I'm glad you took the time to, and/or remembered the oath I make every chapter: **_**I, Sayle, do solemnly swear to review all the fics I enjoy, regardless of the number of reviews, its age, or anything else.**_

**Particular thanks** to those who made reviews that were in-depth or had constructive criticism, namely the following: TimeDiver, Tony, Evilclone(I forgot him before, never again!), Berry, andrewjameswilliams, Werehawk, bhoy1888, Dur'id the Druid, Scottjunkie, Konrad9, Deus, lotusblossom and JonHarper.

Several people have commented on the **Asgard Beam Weapons**. Most said they were depicted as not very powerful. I suppose I should explain. I think of the beams as a penetrating weapon which has the main advantages of punching through shields(which the Cylon's didn't have) and causing secondary explosions which wipe out the enemy. I hope that cleared it up. Besides, one shot isn't very dramatic, is it? :P That being said don't expect the _Daedalus_ to be invincible - it isn't. Just much better equipped.

Others have noted about the **Subspace Communications**. Colonials and Cylons don't have them, so neither picked up the message. Poor Cylons.

As for the _Daedalus_ measurements I went by a fan estimate and a large chart of Stargate ships. It isn't official, because there simply arn't official measurements. I figured it was safer to err on the larger side of the _Daedalus_, but I wanted to give at least a general impression of size. I do confess the railgun ammo bit was inspired by the _Prometheus_ running out of munitions in _Lost City_.

I want to **personally thank** everybody who reviewed by brief chapter four questioning how the fic should go on. You guys were very helpful and I'll miss having your input in the form of reviews for this chapter four - they were incredibly useful to me before!

I would also like to mention Smiles for being such an adorable little pyromaniac.


	5. Doctor Jackson, I Presume?

**This is a transitional chapter - the viewpoint of the next chapter will switch between Galactica and the _Daedalus_.**

* * *

The briefing room of the SGC was unusually quiet. General O'Neill was idly filling in a crossword, one elbow propped up against the table and his hand pressing into the side of his face as he killed time. General Landry was visible behind the glass window of his office on the red phone, the stark concrete of the wall in the underground complex giving way to possibly the best decorated room under the mountain.

Colonel Sheppard had his hands stuffed in his pockets and was looking down into the gate room through the observation window, watching the technicians preparing a MALP to go through the gate to probe a new world. The Stargate network in the Milky Way had more of a 'carved stone' feel to it than the more recently constructed Pegasus network which Sheppard was more familiar with.

"You know," O'Neill commented casually as he inked in an incorrect answer on his crossword, "You would think a smart guy like McKay would be faster." Sheppard turned away from the observation window and sat down next to the General, stretching out and leaning back in the cushioned chair.

"All I know is that McKay talked to Zelenka during the Atlantis check in and buried himself in his lab." O'Neill made a non-committal sound and scratched out one of the clues on the crossword.

"I thought it was the SGC's lab." Sheppard shrugged, leaning to the side so he could see the crossword, arms crossed.

"Well, you know how scientists are. And that answer is wrong." O'Neill slowly turned his head to look at Sheppard, and deliberately slid the crossword a little further away. Sheppard backed off.

"Anyway, I really don't understand what he found so fascinating. From what I heard you lot wiped the floor with that mothership and-" The air by the circular stairwell down to the control room began to shimmer and the tell-tale sound of the Asgard beaming technology filled the air. The light brightened and the form of Colonel Caldwell appeared. Sheppard blinked, looking surprised.

"You don't look like McKay." Caldwell shot the Colonel a look that could only be described as a cross between exasperated and annoyed.

"Save it, Sheppard. An unknown ship just made a flyby of Earth." Caldwell dropped a folder onto the briefing table which slid over to stop by O'Neill's fingers. Flipping the folder open and pulling out the report within he turned it over to check the blank back, then looked up at Caldwell.

"Wow, a single sheet. You should do all the reports." O'Neill placed the sheet back into the folder again and flicked it shut, leaning back in his chair. Caldwell looked a little irritated.

"It happened five minutes ago. It appeared out of nowhere then vanished when we got close."

"That is because that is their version of a hyperdrive." Rodney McKay strode into the room holding a bulging folder, which he promptly placed on the table. Sheppard eyed the pile with distaste.

"You can't have done all that in two hours." Rodney looked confused for a moment, then looked at Sheppard like he was an idiot.

"What? No. These are the sensor readings from the _Daedalus_." Rodney produced a sheet with what looked like graphs and plenty of mathematical symbols on it. O'Neill blinked and looked completely uninterested and pointed lazily at the sensor readings.

"Do you really expect _any_ of us to understand that…thing?" Rodney looked at the paper then back at O'Neill.

"What? No. The thing is I've seen all this before. It's a Stargate." Sheppard sighed and leaned back, apparently content to wait for an answer. Caldwell took a seat and General O'Neill, offered an opportunity to make a smart-ass comment, didn't pass it up.

"Really? It's so obvious now! Where is it?" Rodney sighed then forged on with a determination that would do any soldier proud.

"I had Zelenka run a check through the Atlantis database with the sensor readings we got from the mothership when it appeared. There was a match. Just before the war with the Wraith the Ancients were experimenting with a new hyperdrive design that would allow almost instantaneous travel anywhere in the galaxy, like a Stargate." That got Sheppard and Caldwell's attention. Sheppard leaned forward.

"That's a useful thing to be able to do." Caldwell nodded slowly, apparently agreeing. McKay rose a single finger in warning, as if to forestall any further discussion.

"The problem is it didn't work well enough. The drive creates a microscopic wormhole between the ship and destination, which then disassembles and reassembles on the other side, just like a Stargate. But without two fixed points the wormhole isn't accurate. Even the Ancients couldn't fix the problem. The new drive was abandoned when the war began."

"So in other words," Caldwell said slowly, "our enemy was using an Ancient hyperdrive."

"Or just used the idea," Sheppard observed. But Rodney shook his head.

"The readings are practically identical to the tests recorded in the Atlantis database. This isn't the same idea, it is a direct copy or descendent of the Ancient version. One of Ancients fleeing the Wraith siege of Atlantis must have recreated the design."

"Are they Ancients?" General Landry had just emerged from his office, and took a seat at the briefing table. "Because if they are…"

"Oh please," Rodney said, with derision evident in his tone. "Ancients without shields? Ancients without a proper hyperdrive?" Sheppard shrugged.

"Well they made it in the first place. Must have been some reason." Rodney seemed to despair, then bounced back with a tone that suggested he was surrounded by idiots.

"The hyperdrive was abandoned for a reason! The _slight_ advantage they give is outweighed by far by normal hyperdrives. After 150 light years the instability of the generated wormhole introduces exponential error. Try going further than that and you could end up inside a planet, or a star." Caldwell leaned forward.

"Needless to say, the ability to disappear and reappear could be a major tactical advantage. Is there any way to block this? Neutralise it?" Rodney looked incredulous.

"Why is everything about weapons and tactics to you? You can't stop this no more than you can stop normal hyperdrives!" Caldwell looked ready to snap back, so Sheppard stood a little and put out a calming hand, interrupting and bringing the conversation back to the original course.

"So…why did this Ancient recreate it in the first place?" Rodney looked a little uncomfortable, looking from side to side as if for some invisible support.

"Zelenka looked through the database, and it seems that the smaller versions could fit inside a jumper. Maybe he was using it for personal transport. Who knows." Sheppard instantly perked up. Anything improving the puddle jumpers was sure to spark his enthusiasm. "We don't have the schematics, though." Sheppard deflated.

"I'm sure this is all fascinating," Landry drawled, "But the IOA is unanimous. Those ships do not so much as take a single step into this solar system. The _Daedalus_ will intercept them at their current position." O'Neill looked surprised.

"I'm sorry, the _Daedalus_? Shouldn't they be on the way to Atlantis?" Sheppard wasn't sure whether it was there, but he could have sworn Caldwell sounded smug.

"It light of the greater experience of the _Daedalus_ with this sort of situation the _Odyssey_ is making the supply run to Atlantis."

"Colonel Caldwell will head up the mission," General Landry explained, "with Doctor McKay consulting."

"What? No, nonono. I've got to get back to Atlantis. I have projects to run." Landry looked torn between being amused and irritated that he was being questioned. He got enough of that from SG1.

"I'm sure its very important Doctor McKay, but you don't go anywhere until this situation is dealt with. But I feel your pain. Doctor Jackson is coming as well." Rodney sighed and threw up his hands, grabbing up the pile of sensor readings and leaving the room in a foul mood.

"Well that went well. As much as I like babysitting Rodney, Atlantis calls." Sheppard stood up and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Landry.

"Not so fast, Colonel. You're going too." Sheppard slowly turned to face the pair of Generals. O'Neill gave him a smile.

"Ancient gene, remember? We packed that puddle jumper onto the _Daedalus_ for a reason. You happen to be our best pilot for the jumpers and a cloaked ship could come in handy, now the _Odyssey_ doesn't have a ZPM to power the cloak. I'm certainly not going."

General O'Neill had the Ancient gene himself, but Sheppard had an intuitive link with the Ancient technology that nobody on Earth could match. It helped that he was also an effective pilot in his own right. Sheppard made a last attempt to rally a valiant if ineffectual defence.

"Sir, Atlantis needs a military commander. Now I need to-"

"You don't need to do anything Sheppard," O'Neill said with an edge of sharpness over his usual tone. "We contacted Atlantis already, and Major Lorne has been assigned control over military operations. It's all been taken care of. Get your ass onto the _Daedalus_."

"Yessir." Sheppard gave a crisp salute and left the briefing room. Landry watched him go and chuckled quietly.

"My God, Jack. He saluted you. That can't be a good sign." O'Neill sighed and tapped his thumbs together idly.

"Daniel isn't due back from the ruins on P3X-2…whatever it is soon, so I'll dial in and tell him the bad news. I have a crossword to finish, too. _Walter! Dial her up!_" The bemused Landry watched him go down into the control room, the newspaper cut-out in the hand of the man tasked with defending the planet covered in answers that didn't even fit in the boxes.

* * *

The _Daedalus_ hung in high Earth orbit, waiting for its one last passenger. Colonel Caldwell was consulting with specialists of one sort or another, his chair empty as the crew conducted checks and diagnostics. Colonel Sheppard and Rodney McKay were each doing their own thing, with McKay haunting Engineering and Sheppard lurking about the puddle jumper in the F302 bay.

Caldwell was by nature an impatient person, especially when he had an assigned mission, so it was with some relief that he heard one of his officers report that Doctor Jackson was ready to beam aboard. Striding to his chair Caldwell took a seat.

"Finally. Beam the Doctor aboard." There was a growing light for a brief second and Daniel Jackson appeared on the bridge. Caldwell rose and shook his hand. It wasn't the first time Jackson had been on his ship, and probably wouldn't be the last. "Doctor Jackson. I assume you have been briefed?"

"If you can call being harassed by Jack for a solid fifteen minutes after being pulled away from the excavation dig on P3X-272 a briefing." Caldwell didn't respond for a moment, returning to his seat and turning to the helm.

"Engage hyperdrive." There was a muted 'aye, sir' in response as Caldwell turned back to Jackson. "Well Doctor, General O'Neill simply felt it would be best to have you on this mission. We haven't met these people before, and they are very close to Earth. We have fifteen minutes travel time, if you would like to go over the sensor logs."

"Nope," Daniel said brightly. "I would like to eat. I haven't had lunch. So…I'll be in the mess hall." With that the archaeologist left the bridge, leaving several crewmembers looking after him in surprise. Caldwell was less charitable.

"Fifteen minutes, Doctor!" There was a momentary pause, then a shouted reply came down the corridor.

"I know!" Caldwell shook his head then turned to his tactical officer, checking the overall readiness of the _Daedalus_. If the last encounter was any indication it could be one hell of a firefight.

At the same time Sheppard and McKay were walking side by side down the corridor towards the mess hall, McKay holding a tablet which he was tapping at every now and then; and Sheppard holding a personnel file. "You know," Sheppard remarked casually. "I didn't really look at Jackson's file when he came to Atlantis. Just glanced it over. But this is pretty interesting." Rodney looked over briefly, then went back to his tablet.

"I mean, look at this: He knows twenty seven languages," Sheppard continued. "I mean, I knew about the whole ascension stuff, but that's pretty cool. Oh, and look, the Asgard named a ship after him." McKay's digital pen slipped for a second, but he still didn't reply. Sheppard didn't miss it, and smirked.

"When he was an Ori Prior he had telekinesis. That's pretty cool too. That's the sort of thing you wish you had, right?" That was the last straw and McKay snapped, a flood of indignation surfacing as predictably as the tides. It was one thing to flout the accomplishments of another in his face, but another to make a direct, if sly comparison.

"I will have you know," McKay insisted, "That when I got hit by that Ancient machine I got telekinesis, healing, mind-reading, super-intelligence-"

"Super-ego, too," Sheppard added. McKay stopped for a moment and glared at him, opened his mouth, then closed it again while he formulated a calmer reply.

"I will have you know," he said tersely, "that my intelligence was inflated well beyond the comprehension of any other human at the time. That is not ego." Sheppard, ever one for using an opening, made a rather quick comeback and muttered under his breath.

"Your intelligence wasn't the only thing that inflated." Rodney heard, clenched his jaw, and forged on.

"And this whole ascension thing? Overrated. Too many rules to it, can't do this, can't to that. I could have ascended if I wanted to." Sheppard looked all-too interested in the file he had in front of him, and Rodney snatched the paper away.

"What…this is blank?" Sheppard gave him a grin. Daniel's 'personnel file' was just a few sheets of blank A4.

"Surprise."

"I can't believe you-"

"Lay off, Rodney. Can't you just admit that you wanted the Asgard to name a ship after you, too?" Unknown to his team-mate, Sheppard couldn't help but smile a little as the comment reignited Rodney's indignant tone and set him on another rant.

The pair turned the corner to the mess hall with Rodney espousing the advantages of physics compared to archaeology. Despite the completely different subjects the scientist was doing a reasonably good job of savaging the opposition. He stopped when he saw Jackson at one of the tables eating. The pair shared a look and sat down opposite, with Daniel looking up briefly as they took a seat.

"We save Earth more times that I can remember," the archaeologist commented, "and the second I start doing something that I enjoy I get pulled away for some emergency. Those ruins had fascinating Mesopotamian architecture." Jackson took another bite as Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure they did. Sooner we get this over with the quicker we can get back to Atlantis." Daniel snorted, making Sheppard look at him curiously as the Doctor explained.

"Good luck with that. You know how long it took me to get to Atlantis? A year, and two failed trips. That isn't even counting not being able to leave with the expedition in the first place." There was a moment of silence as Sheppard and McKay absorbed the worrying thought. Fortunately the unpleasant chain of thought was derailed by Colonel Caldwell over Sheppard's earpiece.

"Colonel Sheppard, we are about to drop out of hyperspace. Please bring Doctors McKay and Jackson up to the bridge." Sheppard tapped his earpiece.

"Roger that, on our way." Sheppard looked down at Jackson. "So much for the food." The archaeologist sighed and rose, and the trio made their way to the bridge.

The bridge was slightly more lively than usual as the crew prepared the ship for the transition out of hyperspace. Colonel Caldwell was issuing orders as the three entered the bridge, looking every inch the commander as he sat in his chair. "…and raise the shields the moment we drop out of hyperspace." Daniel interrupted.

"Do we really want to do that?" Caldwell looked up at them with an inscrutable expression. Daniel looked tentative, but seemed sure of himself. "They might not have shields, but they might be able to detect them. We don't want to fight…so is getting ready for one the best course of action here?" There was a moments pause.

"He has a point," Sheppard noted. "We have nothing to lose. If they attack, we raise shields and get down to it." Caldwell looked to the side to his tactical officer, who nodded as if confirming it was possible.

"Very well," Caldwell conceded. "We don't want this to turn into a fight unless it has too, especially this close to Earth." He turned to the tactical officer again and began readying the disposition of the _Daedalus_' armaments. Asgard beams would remain unpowered, but railguns and missiles would be armed and ready. Caldwell did not believe in taking chances.

"Sir, hyperspace drop out in ten seconds." The report from the navigational officer spurred the rest of the bridge crew to return to their stations from where they were conferring, and Sheppard and McKay took up position behind Caldwell and the navigational and tactical officers, looking out through the observation window and into the hyperspace tunnel.

"Hyperspace dropout in 5…4…3…"

**There have been some comments about various little workings of the Galactica and the Daedalus. The Colonials and Cylon's do NOT have subspace communications. I get all my information about Galactica from the Battlestar Wiki, so if I make mistakes they are honest mistakes in either the Wiki or how I wrote them. In any case, defence aside, I'm thrilled that so many people are interested in this story. It drives me to keep on writing. Special thanks to TimeDiver for his in-depth review(and I think I did get his email, but it got buried somewhere).**


	6. Daughter of Atlas

Sorry for all of those on story alert who got excited at there being a new chapter. This is in fact a notification that the rewrite is now in progress and the first chapter(a tad longer than they usually are) is now up under the name "Daughter of Atlas". Kudos to those who understand the name. Link provided, and I hope you enjoy the story. As much as I enjoyed writing Legacy of Kobol I had no idea where I was going with it, and the story was already falling apart. I hope Daughter of Atlas turns out to be just as popular and liked. I also hope that all the wonderful and perceptive reviews and readers who drove me so much the first time like the new story as well!

.net/s/4772081/1/Daughter_of_Atlas


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